


Sunk Cost

by firbolging



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Atlantis AU, Drowning Mention, F/M, Half Based on The Little Mermaid and Atlantis, Mermaid!Jester, Researcher!Caleb, Set in Wildemount, alcohol mention, death mention, mermaid au, references to Caleb's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firbolging/pseuds/firbolging
Summary: "The sunken city of Nicodranas had long been decided, by scholars and fools alike, to be nothing more than myth. And Caleb was the foolish scholar who would rewrite that decision, becoming legend himself in doing so."-"With a yawn, Jester darted around the back alleys of Nicodranas, counting down the moments until she would reach the Lavish Chateau."
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 26
Kudos: 122





	Sunk Cost

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to Charlie!!! I was so excited to see I was your secret santa (though I had a suspicion after seeing your prompts). I went with mermaid AU and I hope you like it <3

The room was too bright, lit by both the day and a scattering of lamps. Better for the eyes to not risk strain, worse for the fumbling Zemnian, nervously reading back over his proposal. It read the same as his memory, steel-trapped and hungry, relayed. Caleb moved his frantic gaze to the room at large. Still too bright, too many books for his brain to process. If he ever had the honour of his own office at the Port Damali University, he would pull the curtains closed, would keep the shelves sacred for only the most important texts. But for that privilege he had very far to go, and there was a decent chance he would not get past this particular hurdle. Caleb had seen the conversation already, imagined and re-imagined and never once going his way.

The Professors down south were looser than the ones back home in the Empire. That did not mean, however, that they were fully free to Caleb’s every fancy. It did sound crazy. When you hadn’t looked at the research. If you didn’t know much about the arcane evidence. He had spent five years pouring over whatever was freely available, drawing his own conclusions and even finding his own clues on the shoreline. But the waves hit his ankles as he rummaged in the sand; ever a reminder of where the real treasure lay.

And where was Professor Errenis? Wensforth had said just a moment and yes, ‘a moment’ was subject to interpretation, but surely it did not exceed fifteen minutes? Waiting for the rejection was far worse than the actual rejection, he knew that from experience. This was the fourth time he was putting forth this particular proposal, begging, by this point, for that elusive research grant.

With a deep breath, Caleb turned his attention to the empty chair across the desk and placed Yussa Errenis there, as unimpressed as ever.

Disappointment and impatience in equal measures would pour forth as Yussa said, “Are you not finished with chasing fantasies?”

In return, Caleb would fumble, “There is good evidence that—”

“There is no evidence of this being more than a myth.”

A swift opening of a door behind him made Caleb startle from that particular anxiety induced daydream. He stood to his feet by way of greeting and found himself face-to-face with a man he only knew from afar.

“Professor Thelyss,” he breathed, going to wipe his sweaty palm on his trousers before remembering that Essek Thelyss did not touch people. “I am sorry, were you expecting to meet with Professor Errenis?”

“I believe I was expecting to meet with you,” replied Essek, floating far enough into the room to allow for the door to slam behind him. All without touching. It was as awe-inspiring as it was intimidating to be alone with such an accomplished person. “My, it’s bright in here, how does he stand it?”

In a second the curtains were tightly drawn and the room was plunged into a much more comfortable level of light, with only the odd line of sunshine and flickering lamp to challenge the darkness.

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, Essek lowered himself into Yussa’s chair.

“Now,” he said. “What have you got for me?”

Adjusting to both the light and the circumstances, Caleb stopped before he spoke. “I’m sorry. I do not quite understand. I’m presenting you with my proposal?”

“If you’re willing to part with it.”

Caleb realised how tight his grip was on the parchment, creases crumpling at the sides.

“Of course,” said Caleb, leaning forwards and relaxing his hands.

The parchment shifted, untouched, through the air until it hovered before Essek. He was silent as he read, pushing Caleb’s heart to stutter ever-more uncomfortably and his palms to moisten ever further.

And then something so miraculous happened that Caleb had to blink hard to be certain his eyes had adjusted properly to the dimness. Essek Thelyss reached a lithe hand out from beneath his cloak and used it to pull the paper directly beneath his nose. The better the see it, it seemed.

“This is…” Essek trailed off and Caleb’s self-doubt finished the sentence with every awful insult he could think of to describe a research proposal. And some more suited to describing a living, breathing villain. “Fascinating.”

Fascinating. Essek was… fascinated? 

Caleb realised he hadn’t responded, had let too many seconds go by for his fumbling, “Thank you,” to not be jarring.

If it jarred him, however, Essek did not let it show. He simply continued to read, eyes running over every line of the thing with more interest and patience than any professor had ever shown this pie in the sky research project of Caleb’s. It was a lot to ask for, he knew, if the myth proved itself to be nothing more than myth. But if he succeeded? Well, in that case, what was a fully manned and stocked ship? 

“It’s expensive,” said Caleb.

Essek looked up and Caleb looked down, knotting his hands between his knees and regretting the slip. 

Essek asked, “You’re trying to talk me out of accepting the proposal?”

“No,” he said firmly, raising his eyes as far as he dared. 

“Good. Because I’d hate to fund a half-hearted researcher.”

“I’m certainly not half-hearted. This is my fourth time putting this proposal forwards.”

“Fourth? Most students would have given up by now,” Essek let the papers fall back to the desk. “But most professors aren’t apt to recognise this kind of dedication for what it is.”

“Which is?”

Essek paused for a moment, looking bewildered. Perhaps, Caleb thought, he had interrupted him.

“Which is what?” Essek asked, his hard line of interviewing taking a momentary break. 

“This kind of dedication.”

“Oh, just… an exceptional degree of it.”

“Right.”

“May I continue?”

“Please,” said Caleb quickly.

“What I was building up to,” said Essek with just a hint of a sigh, “Was that I am happy to back this proposal.”

“Really?”

“It will need a few tweaks and you won’t get half the funding you’ve asked for, I can tell you that now, but I’ll see that you do get funded and that you can carry out this research. Even if the circumstances won’t be quite what you imagined.”

Caleb wanted to leap from his seat and firmly shake the other man’s hand. He wanted Yussa to be sitting beside Essek, his surprise in full view. He wanted someone to tell about all of this.

“Thank you,” he stammered, feeling Essek’s stare grow pointed at his silence. “I will not let you down.”

* * *

Caleb returned to his room, giddy beyond suppression. As he walked through the bar of the inn he’d called home for over a year, he could feel eyes on his bouncing steps, his wide smile. It wasn’t so much that Port Damali was a miserable city as much as Caleb was a miserable person. Anyone who knew his face from passing would not recognise the unbridled joy. Maybe he seemed drunk. Maybe it was bad manners to pass through a barroom, drunk on another establishment’s mead and not order so much as a nightcap. He did not care much for anything, however, beyond the fact that he was finally going to sea. 

“Frumpkin,” he called out, too impatient to light the candles the simple way and sending up four glowing orbs so that he might find his cat. “Aha. There you are.”

His sweet ball of orange fur let out a ‘meow’ by way of greeting before rushing to the window and beginning to cry.

“I know, I know,” said Caleb, following the creature and opening the window for him. “I left you for a whole hour. I’m sorry.”

But Frumpkin had already leapt to the alley beneath and would be gone for the remainder of the evening. Caleb let out a sigh and collapsed onto the bed. He had wanted to tell Frumpkin the good news. To explain, gently, that although they would be at sea, that did not mean Frumpkin had to stay cooped up on the ship. He had turned his cat into a bird before (after being unable to climb up that treacherous tree and carry him down himself). It would be fine. Better than fine even. It would be the most incredible experience of his life.

The sunken city of Nicodranas had long been decided, by scholars and fools alike, to be nothing more than myth. And Caleb was the foolish scholar who would rewrite that decision, becoming legend himself in doing so.

* * *

Professor Thelyss had not been wrong about the funding adjustments. The department was generous enough to pay off the trading ship known as ‘The Mist’ to allow Caleb to join them on their ventures between Port Damali and the Swavain Islands. It wasn’t ideal and there was a lot more docking than he had hoped for, but it got him out onto the Lucidian Ocean which was all that really mattered.

He got a few odd looks from the sailors, undoubtedly irritated by the scholar who ate from their table and hoisted none of the riggings. Only the navigator, a solid and quiet tortle name Orly, offered him smiles. They were welcome, of course, but he was happy enough to be en route to achieving his every dream.

And then seven months passed.

And then that small stretch of ocean became a pitiful rut.

Fruitless.

He’d known it would be but he’d never been to sea before, he’d not really understood the true scope of it, how one route was so very strict, how the waters which were never ventured upon truly were never ventured upon.

“Captain, if we could just take a quick detour,” he begged.

The Captain, a gruff dwarf with an intricately braided white beard and a scar from thumb to elbow replied, “And will you cover the extra supplies we’ll need in case we get lost? The increase in wages we’d have to pay the crew to risk their lives?”

“I’m an extra mouth to feed as it is. The quicker I get proof, the quicker I can appeal for my own ship, my own crew. And the quicker you don’t have to worry about keeping me.”

“Another five months, another three journeys, and we won’t have to worry about you anymore anyway. One year was the deal. I’ll put up with your whining a little longer if it keeps me away from sea monsters and pirates.”

“I will pay you generously. After I find Nicodranas.”

“And I’ll thank you with another stint in that hospital.”

Caleb froze. He had heard whispers on board of his insanity, that he was crazy, but he supposed that was purely based on his beliefs and behaviour. He knew he didn’t come across as others did. It wasn’t uncommon for the average person to roll their eyes at his words. But the average person didn’t know about his time in medical custody.

It was silly, he realise then, to assume the Captain wouldn’t have been given a full history of the man he was taking on board. The University would be up the creek if Caleb broke again, if he put anyone in danger, and they had withheld information. Not that Caleb was dangerous anymore. Not that he was ever a danger to anyone other than himself.

“Forgive me,” said Caleb. He could hear how forced the words sounded, but there was little he could do in the moment to butter them. “I forgot myself for a moment. I’ll get back to my research.”

Crewmates he passed eyed him with something akin to concern and it boiled his blood. He had to wonder if they knew. If it made a difference. He did not have the courage, after that, to pester the captain again. It seemed that all hope was lost until, to his sudden convenience, the captain died.

In fact, it was so convenient that if the rest of the crew hadn’t seen the captain wander drunkenly overboard, Caleb would have expected suspicion to fall on him. If the same crew hadn’t forgotten the presence of a very sober tortle navigator and a scrawny wizard with the ability to breathe underwater, they might have also had less guilt to carry themselves. But they too were intoxicated beyond reason and simply took it in turns to scramble desperately beneath the freezing waves before clambering back on board and shivering beneath scratchy standard-issue blankets. 

The next morning, all eyes turned to Orly. The first mate, by all rights, should have taken up the mantel of captain, but he was a wiry young thing and blamed himself for the death of the captain. Orly was the oldest member of the crew by a long shot. Not to mention he had this way about him. You felt calm at the sound of his smooth stuttering. Even when the sea knocked the ship about in rocky waters. Caleb had to wonder if there was something broken inside of him when his gut reaction was not to feel sorrow, but joy. Perhaps the smiles, however small, offered a promise; a change in course.

“Captain,” said Caleb, after what he felt were an appropriate number of days. Orly blinked slowly, not speaking for a moment. “Captain?”

“Sorry,” he began. “Still not used to that title. Why don’t you call me Orly?”

“Of course. Orly.”

At that, the tortle gave his familiar smile and hope resurged. “I only wanted to ask if there was a chance of… that is to say, I was wondering if there was anything that might convince you to… take the long way home. I suppose.”

One of Orly’s eyes was hidden behind a tightly strapped on eyepatch. The other, however, narrowed. Caleb allowed himself to be studied and tried to look as trustworthy as possible.

Finally, with a sigh, Orly asked, “Now why would I want to do a thing like that?”

Caleb smiled softly and said, “You’ve been out at sea for a long time, ja?”

“On and off.”

“Have you ever seen merfolk?”

“Seen?” he scoffed. Caleb’s heart sank. “I’ve heard them. Been robbed by them. Seen the fruits of their labours, in that regard, I suppose.” His stutter got stuck on the ‘p’ in ‘suppose’ and he paused to take a drag on his pipe. “Why? You wanna see one?”

“That would be a start.”

“A start? You’d be lucky to get a glimpse. I’d not dare to dream any farther than that.”

“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that,” said Caleb, an honest smile gracing his face. “I don’t believe I’ll be satisfied until I find Nicodranas.”

Orly coughed and spluttered, his pipe falling from his mouth and rolling, for a moment, on the swaying deck. Caleb’s eyes followed it, this way and that, back and forth, while Orly’s good eye burned judgement into his reddening cheeks.

“Let’s just say,” said Orly. Caleb froze and the pipe rolled out of view. “Let’s just say that this Nicodranas is a real place, and I’m not saying it’s not, but what makes you think you’d be able to find it?”

“I have spent roughly ten years on the study of merfolk, of the relics we have, of the evidence. I am better acquainted with their societies, their language even, than any other person alive in Wildemount today.”

“That’s quite a claim.”

“I am not one to brag.”

From his periphery, Caleb saw Orly nod.

“Alright,” he said softly. “I can’t say I’m not interested, but I do have to ask how you expect the crew to react to the change of plan.”

Caleb had not particularly thought of convincing the crew, understanding that the final say of any trip belonged to the captain. Still, from what he had seen of the sailors, he did not believe it would be difficult to entice them. So long as Orly took the lead.

* * *

Jester could scarcely believe her eyes. It must be a whale, she thought, trying to settle her expectations. But she knew the difference in belly between boat and whale. That was a ship. Full of superstitious sailors no doubt.

She giggled beneath her breath and followed the bubbles upwards. 

Ships so rarely ventured into those waters; if she wanted to play tricks on the landfolk she usually had to set out for a few days and wait beneath the trade routes. The older her mother got, however, the greater her worry grew. Or maybe it was because of Jester getting older. Maybe she was afraid of the freedom a fully grown woman commanded. She could swim for days and then swim for days more after that. Nothing but Jester’s love for her mother tethered her to Nicodranas and there were plenty of other young merpeople who had embarked on adventures, some going beyond the Lucidian Ocean even, and bringing back strange shells and tales of other settlements. 

“None as impressive as Nicodranas though,” they’d reassure their friends, their family, and strangers in bars.

And of course there was nowhere that could compare to Nicodranas - the city so beautiful it was cursed to be lost to all who did not intend to find it. Jester had heard sailors speak of it even. Though they referred to it as ‘sunken’ which did not sit well with her. It was a city of the sea and the sea alone. Without the water to soak the walls, it would crumble. It was built with and through and in water. 

Still, she couldn’t blame the landfolk for wanting to claim it as their own. If it was the most beautiful city under the sea, it would surely outshine all those on land. From what she had seen of ship decks and paintings, it was a dry and stoic world up there. A world that could use a little tickling, a little prodding. 

Nobody would approve of her going within a fathom of the ship’s belly; her mother had been aghast at first when Jester had asked to be tutored in the common language of the landfolk. While her peers travelled outwards, Jester’s gaze was firmly upturned, insatiably curious about those pitiful people eating and drinking grain and grain alone. Had they forgotten the fish beneath? Or did they not have the tongues for something with taste? 

Jester had no hesitation as she swam upwards and broke the ocean’s surface. Her hair fell slack across her eyes and stuck to her cheeks and neck. It was a discomfort she was familiar with after so many years of sneaking away and up. She knew to scrape it back into a ribbon, to keep her vision clear.

Her ears attuned to the speed at which sound travelled through dry air, and she heard the voices of men aboard the ship. With a slight inclination towards caution, Jester pulled herself up the wooden slats. She had mastered the practice some years beforehand, ensuring her upper body strength was enough to hold her. Finally, she reached the railings and shifted until she could rest comfortably, her tail curled against the ship. There, around a dazzlingly bright lamp, sat a group of sailors, deep in what seemed to be a rather intense conversation.

One of the men shook upon the barrel he’d taken as a seat. The air was warm, even against her wet skin.

“What are you shaking for, Geoffrey?” demanded another man. Or boy perhaps. She wasn’t always sure how the aging of landfolk worked, but she remembered puberty well enough to see the evidence in his chin scruff. “You don’t actually believe his stories do you?”

“I have to say, Orly,” said another man (definitely a man), red hair salt-soaked and chin clean-shaven, said. “I didn’t expect you to scare them into submission.”

Jester had not intended to move her gaze away from the redhead, hypnotised for a moment by the moonlight dancing upon his cheekbones. But the next man to speak was something else entirely. She had seen turtles and she had seen landfolk. She had never known them to be one in the same.

“Who’s scaring?” he demanded. “I’m warning them. We’ve brought them into dangerous waters with promise of riches and not a one has denied us our flight of fancy. But that doesn’t mean anyone needs to live in ignorance. Merfolk roam these waters, yeah, but they’re not always as nice as the fairytales make them out to be.”

Jester half laughed, half exhaled, as quiet as she could. In spite of the warm air, a shiver struck her spine.

The turtle man continued, “They’re secretive and keeping secrets doesn’t always come easily. You’ve gotta fight to keep a hold of what you’ve got.”

“We’re not gonna fight them are we?” asked the shaking young man.

“Absolutely not,” said the redhead. “We are anthropologists only. There will be no disturbing any merfolk and definitely no harming them. Or their city.”

Jester would have liked to see them try to as much as find Nicodranas let alone last a minute in battle with its defences.

“So all our riches are coming from your bloody paper, are they?” scoffed someone she could not see.

There was no irony in his voice when the redhead replied, “Yes.” Jester settled against the wood and watched again how the moon danced upon his face. He was almost beautiful, she thought. She didn’t know landfolk could be beautiful. “If we find nothing,” he pressed on, “I compensate you all for the detour. If we find something then we’ll be compensated ten times over by scholars. In fame as well as gold.”

“I don’t want to be famous,” said the youngest boy. “I just want the gold.”

Jester snorted and the bright blue eyes of the redhead flickered over to her face. With a quick gasp she dropped out of sight and below the surface of the water. She could hear heavy clattering of footsteps on the deck above. There was a small temptation to float upwards, to see the look on their faces at the sight of her. Muffled by the water, she heard hurried voices and wondered how long they would search the darkness for a glimpse.

Perhaps, she thought with a sinking heart, she would have to return the following night to mess with them. She gave one last longing look upwards before retreating.

* * *

Nicodranas looked, to the untrained eye, like a bed of rocks. No colour or life. Just ocean floor. Jester dove down rapidly towards one particular rock – large and grey, almost identical to its brothers. She plummeted and plummeted until she was no longer looking at lifeless floor. Until Nicodranas lay open and welcoming before her.

The guards at the pearl-pressed gates raised their tridents in unison. It was a dance that had been choreographed and practiced to perfection, performed every day and never coming to any fruition.

At the sight of her tail, they eased their grips and parted to allow her entry.

“Thank you,” she called out as she passed them.

Not a single one cracked a smile. She knew they would move only to reach for their tridents until their shift came to its end. For the most part they were statues and though Jester had tried again and again to cause a twitch. A nod. A scoff even. If she got too close they performed their dance. She had learnt that as a teenager. But she could still dazzle from a distance. Any normal person would have laughed.

The gates gave way to a grand passage, pearls pressed into every free inch of stone. Jester thought nothing of them as she swam past. She had nicer pearls in her bedroom.

With a yawn, Jester darted around the back alleys of Nicodranas, counting down the moments until she would reach the Lavish Chateau. Avoiding the shining orbs of light that lit the deep-sea city, Jester was certain she returned to the intricately sculpted and carved out cave of the inn without much trouble. She breathed a celebratory sigh, gave a little giggle, and swam through her open bedroom window.

Her room, however, was no longer empty. The shape of her mother lay delicately upon her bedsheets, chest rising and falling in steady sequence. Jester tried not to make a noise, wanted desperately to just fall onto the bed beside her and deal with her disappointment in the morning. It must have been a shallow sleep, though, and undoubtedly fraught with worry. A moment after Jester’s arrival, her mother Marion Lavorre let out a groan of waking.

“Hi, Mama,” cooed Jester.

“Jester,” said Marion, sitting up, letting the pulse of the water carry her closer to her daughter, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

All concern, no anger. But the disappointment was still unmistakable, as far as Jester saw her mother’s face fall, heard the sadness in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t want you to be worried about me.”

Marion let out a lyrical laugh and said, “Oh, darling, motherhood means being worried every second of the day.”

“Mama,” she breathed, her heart breaking.

“But you are safe,” said Marion firmly. “And you are home. I’ll let you sleep.”

Jester wanted to buckle into a smaller body, to be a girl rather than a woman, to clutch at her mother’s tail and beg to be sung to sleep. She knew now how important sleep was for her mother. She had so many long nights of entertaining audiences, entertaining clients in the privacy of her own rooms. Working hard so that they might be secure.

A security that Jester risked every time she ventured out.

See, Jester was not just in danger of being spotted by landfolk, but also of other merfolk. Marion Lavorre was known, far and wide, beneath the waves, as the Ruby of the Sea. Her red skin was a rarity among merfolk and what was even rarer was her disposition. She sang like an angel, truly, but it was how she made you feel when she sat and spoke with you that really kept the men coming back. A courtesan of such great renown was not expected to have a daughter.

“Sleep well, Mama,” said Jester, sharing a small smile with her before being left alone.

Jester did not know why she bothered looking around her room. Nothing was more familiar than those four walls, than the beautiful things that littered every available surface. She wanted for nothing material, but there was a selfish streak in her, she supposed, that would never be satisfied with mere trinkets. It was life that she wanted to hold in her grasp. Not jewels.

She did not disparage her room, rather she loved it, but she worried that the love would fade if she did not slip out into the sunlight. She lived within tiny secret pocket within the heavily guarded vault that was her city. Passage in and out of her room was not forbidden, nor was passage in and out of the city. But there was always an eye on her, always a reminder to stay hidden and precious. To not be stolen away. As if she could be stolen by anything other than her own desires.

With a soft hum of irritation, Jester dove onto her bed and buried her tears into her pillow. The crying was the worst part. It gave so much away, so much to give cause for concern. It was stupid as well. Because she wasn’t sad. She wasn’t. The tears were simply… frustration. Just frustration.

She rolled over and sought the comfort of the ceiling, painted with the pale blue of the sky, the white foam of clouds giving life to green shores, waves of orange flame flickering freely. It had been a difficult but pleasantly consuming month of work, completing the piece. Sighing, she pushed herself up off the mattress and towards the stone above.

Her palm could press against the fire, could obscure it completely from view, as though it had become a part of her. But her palm could not burn from the image alone. It could not blister and crack, could only exist as it was. Palm and stone both cool and smooth from domestication.

There were rocks above and below the water’s surface that could cut sharper than teeth, could tear ships apart with greater ease than any storm. There were merfolk, too, who wielded weapons, who packed bags and travelled from city to city.

Her mother’s caution, however, had long ago turned to fear. She left the security of the inn for nothing and Jester did not let her own disappearances last long enough to be noticed, for the sake of her mother’s heart. Sometimes she failed. Sometimes her mother fell asleep on her sheets, exhausted from work and worry. Jester felt the guilt burn fiercely. She tried to imagine it against the skin of her palm, but the two things would not sit together.

So lost was she in her own mind that it took her a moment to notice the shadow by her window. She had forgotten to close it, to keep the warm water in while keeping anyone unsavoury out. It was only when the shadow shifted slightly, that Jester started.

It was small. Smaller than a person, she was sure. But there were eyes on her, beady and shining with every movement.

Jester moved closer, but by the time she had reached the window, the creature had gone.

* * *

She did not sleep easily that night, even with the windows closed and locked. The sensation of being watched was difficult to shake. As she finally drifted off in the small hours of the morning, her last thought was of the sailors fathoms above. She hoped they were struggling to sleep just as she was, the memory of eyes upon them breaking through their dreams. It put her at ease to picture it. Like a bedtime story. Like a lullaby.

When she awoke around noon, she had quite forgotten the incident at the window. It was, her subconscious had decided, a trick of the tired mind. Yawning and stretching, Jester felt content. Just a few hours wait more and she could return to the ship, under cover of night, and leave her mark.

The guilt she had inherited from her mother had somewhat dulled during the course of the night, but it did prickle just a little as she blew a raspberry at the unmoving guards.

“Don’t you guys want to know where I’m going?” she asked.

At that moment, a small octopus floated across her eye line. It seemed unlikely that her half-hearted question had plucked any kind of reaction from the guards, but the not-knowing was irritating. If the octopus hadn’t been so cute, she would have developed some animosity towards the creature.

“Hey,” she called after it, as it billowed away.

She had been wanting a pet, after all. And this one had basically chosen her. For a split second, she thought it might have paused. But a higher power compelled the creature onwards.

Jester put the encounter from her mind and swam upwards until Nicodranas was obscured by rock and magic.

The ship had thankfully not raised its anchor and she moved onwards without deterrence, slowing only to be sure that her breaking of the water’s surface did not cause too much of a commotion. She pulled back her hair and tried to blink away the sudden dryness of her eyes. Preoccupied as she was, it was a minute or two before she noticed that not every member of the crew was asleep. One of them was leaning over the railings, eyes on the ocean, long red hair hanging forwards.

He did not flinch when she stared back. He just smiled.

* * *

Perhaps he should have been afraid. And perhaps a part of him was. Stronger by far, however, was his pride. Pushing Zemnian and Common to the back of his throat, Caleb collected what he had studied of the Merspeak.

“Hello,” he said, quietly so as not to disturb his crewmates. “Did I say that right?” Her eyes widened and suddenly, she vanished beneath the waves. “Shit,” he breathed in Zemnian.

He wondered if there was a direct translation for that word in Merspeak. He wondered if he should leap after her. The water broke and her head, slowly, resurfaced. Fearing that she might slip beneath again, this time forever, he strained his all-too human eyes in the darkness to look at her properly. To take in the physical presence of a merperson.

Straining, and straining, and the darkness gave little of her away beyond what he had already seen through Frumpkin’s eyes. Beyond the beautifully curled horns at her temples which he had seen at his first glimpse of her the night before, there was little to note of the shape of a head and shoulders. Her hands had been far from extraordinary when she’d pulled her hair back into a bow. No hint of webbing or fin.

His research had displayed a wide variety of physical forms and features belonging to merfolk. Not dissimilar, he supposed, to landfolk. He could not think of an example with horns, though. That sight, in itself, was worth the journey.

When she showed no signs of vanishing again, he said, “Sorry if I scared you.”

It was difficult to see, but her skin had a blue shine about it that could not have come from the black water below nor black sky above. With a moonlit scowl, she replied, in heavily accented Common, “Where did you learn our language?”

Had he impressed her? He suspected he might have and, confidence swelling, he kept to Merspeak and said, “I do a lot of reading.”

“That makes sense,” she said, still using Common, perhaps intending to prove herself as capable as him. He knew that Common was, for want of a better word, uncommon. At least that’s what his research had shown. “Because you don’t speak it great.”

“Your accent is a little strong too,” he said. She stuck her tongue out and blew a great raspberry. “Does that mean the same to you as it does to me?”

“I hope so. I was trying to be rude.”

“Then there are certain quirks our people have in common. That’s fascinating,” he said, more to himself than her. At the sight of her frown deepening, he added, “I mean it.”

She giggled and swam closer to the ship. To his marvel, she began to pull herself up the side with only the strength of her arms, speaking as she did so.

“It’s not that,” she said, letting out the odd grunt as she grew closer and closer, “You talk funny.”

Stepping back unconsciously, he asked, “I do?”

“Yeah. Like an old person.”

“The books I read were pretty old,” he breathed, confidence drained a little by her growing proximity. “So… that might be why.”

She had brought her face to meet his chest and, with a quick heave and swish, she was lounging upon the wooden railing, her side where his elbows had been a moment beforehand. The gentle lamplight he’d used to guide his way from his quarters gave a warm orange glow to the deck of the ship. Not strong enough to spread any farther. It hit half of her though – in space she now lay. Her teeth were not reminiscent of shark bites exactly, but there was a sharpness to her smile that threatened to draw blood. Her horns, too, were sharper than they had appeared at a distance, with a sparkling chain linking one horn to an equally pointy ear below. Terror and beauty were the components of the sublime. As he took another unconscious step backwards, he understood that better than ever before.

“Don’t go away,” she cried, noting the distance, “I can’t move that fast out of water.”

“I was trying to give you space.”

“Well I have some now. Come here, I want to talk to you! I’ve never spoken with any landfolk before.”

With her beckoning, the orange illuminated her wrist. Definitely blue.

“Well I have some now. Come here, I want to talk to you! I’ve never spoken with any landfolk before.”

“This is my first time speaking with a merperson. In fact, this might be the first contact between our people in a good few hundred years.” He had wanted to say something else, but his train of thought was broken by the truly bizarre image of the woman before him, tail and scales, arms and face, draped across a narrow wooden ledge. “Is that not uncomfortable for you?”

“I mean, it digs a little,” she answered, half Merspeak, half Common. 

It took him a moment to realise that she had slipped into her own colloquialisms, but once that became clear to him, understanding her became far easier. Each phrase needed to be deciphered, but there was less of a barrier between them. He followed suit.

“I meant being out of water,” he said. 

“Oh!” She paused to pull a pointedly thoughtful face. “Nope. Guess not. Does it hurt you to be in water?”

“Ja, if I go too deep, the pressure sometimes fucks with my legs and chest. We’re not really made for breathing under there either, but I’ve learnt a few tricks to deal with that.”

“Like just holding your breath for a super long time?”

“Like using incredibly expensive components to cast water-breathing on myself.”

Her eyes widened and she clasped her hands together across her chest.

“It’s easier to send my cat down to search.”

“Like, a land cat? Not a cat fish? I don’t think they do so well under the water either. I tried to take one home once and it scratched me up good the minute I got it wet.”

“Well, he’s not always a cat. At the moment he’s an octopus.”

Confusion, comprehension, and amusement played across her features, each in succession. She gave a wicked grin and said, “You were spying on me, weren’t you?”

“Only after I caught you spying on us.”

“That’s very sneaky,” she said, still smiling. Caleb did not know if he should be unsettled by it or not. Some smiles were not for sharing, were a private show of victory before the prey was devoured. “You’re pretty clever. You tricked all those men into coming out here. Into very dangerous waters.”

“It was no trick.”

“You really think you’re going to find Nicodranas?”

“I already have.”

“I don’t think you have.”

“I followed you.”

“You can barely see now, with all these bright lights about,” she said, gesturing to the scattered lamps, growing duller by the minute. “How are you supposed to see down there?”

“Frumpkin is better with his eyes than me.”

“Better? But not perfect?”

“No. Not perfect.”

“I knew it.”

There was a tightening in his chest and it took all of his own strength to keep from backing away any further. “You’ve had this little frown the whole time we’ve been talking, like you can’t even see me.”

Laughing in spite of himself, betraying his own discomfort he was certain, he said, “I can see you.” Merfolk were no more dangerous than landfolk. But then landfolk had also always been rather skilled at bringing out the coward in Caleb. He pressed on, “And I saw some shapes. Some lights.”

If she had been impressed with him at any point, his shaking defence had knocked it clean from her mind, he was sure. It was foolish of him for floundering. He had known his and Frumpkin’s capabilities, as well as weaknesses, well before stepping foot on board the ship. The twenty-four hours since he had first caught sight of the woman before him had not been spent in mourning. Nicodranas would have to be seen with his own eyes, his spellcasting mustered and savings spent.

It was just that he’d been waiting for so very long to make any kind of contact with merfolk, let alone one who claimed to be from Nicodranas. He had wanted, he realised then, to impress. To be held up as the genius his peers and professors had long stopped seeing him as.

He cleared his throat, looking away from her judgemental stare. “I don’t intend for this to be the end of my studies. I know very well that I have barely seen through the beginning.” To his great surprise and irritation, she began to laugh at him. “I don’t understand what’s funny.”

“Oh, man,” she said, laughing harder. “You’re seriously never gonna find Nicodranas.”

Caleb was saved the indignity of defending himself any further by a great banging from below deck. His attention snapped towards the hatchway for a second at most, but when he turned back, he saw only the spray from what must have been a great splash.

* * *

An hour of pointless waiting passed before he resigned himself to bed. He climbed onto his bunk with his tongue beneath his teeth, pressing up against the sharp edge in a vain attempt at alleviating a smidgen of the stress.

His first contact with the merfolk and it had not gone exactly as he’d always imagined. There were so many things he should have asked her, that he might not have the opportunity to find the answer to in any other way. And, oh, he thought, he had forgotten to ask her name.

Days turned to a week, to a fortnight. The grumblings of the impatient crew grew into a ship-shaking rumble. If he did not find anything soon, he was warned regularly, they’d toss him overboard. He knew it would never come to that but the sentiment remained. Time was spreading thinner and he was no closer to finding Nicodranas.

Caleb had been greeted by a newfound sense of confidence following that meeting. Once sleep had smoothed his senses, anyhow. It had not been a perfect encounter, to be sure, but it was an encounter and that was much more than nothing.

He collected his components and spent the daylight hours hoping the sun might help him navigate the dark depths that particular stretch of ocean had to offer. After the fortnight of fruitless searching, however, he was beginning to think that she had been right. He was never going to find Nicodranas.

There was magic nearby, but it was too powerful for him to pinpoint in location or school. The ocean floor was sand and rock alone. Nothing stood out. Nothing spoke to him of life. Caleb was close to the brink of throwing caution to the wind and using every last water-breathing spell available until he’d run himself dry.

He might have done it, too, had he not been graced by the mercy of the merfolk. Sometime between midnight and morning, they had received a visitor from beneath. A large square of the ship’s exterior had been painted with each and every one of their own faces. Not a single crew member was left unaccounted for. And every one had been portrayed in a rather unflattering light. Picking noses, a deep and passionate kiss shared between two long-time rivals, and pants falling down were just a few of the scenarios played out in paint and wood. Greatest and most ominous of all, however, was the extra words that had been added to the ship’s name. What was once ‘The Mist’ was now, proudly ‘The Mistake.’

Caleb clapped his hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh. It must have seemed, to the others that he was shaking in fear alongside them. Fear was nowhere near the forefront of his mind though. After weeks of dead ends and dead floor, this was the first indication that things had not finished before they’d begun.

* * *

The crew were divided. Curiosity and panic poured forth in equal measures. Orly made no case for either side, spoke nothing of his thoughts beyond a simple, “We know what we know. I will take us wherever you decide.”

Mutiny was voiced by Geoffrey alone. The rest of the crew ignored him to squabble in strained whispers. Caleb paid them little mind. His opinion would have no impact on the outcome. Though there was a fearful sort of respect from the men, it did not counteract the months at sea he had spent an oddity; a recluse.

Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the space they gave him. With rope around his waist and a cat in the shape of an octopus on his shoulder, Caleb would climb down the ship’s exterior and analyse the markings until the light was lost. He considered summoning a few glowing orbs to assist, but the reality was there was no more to glean from the graffiti.

“Hey!” he called up. Above only rope and railings were visible. He tried to picture hauling himself up the side of the ship himself and felt an ache in his muscles from the thought of it. How strong were merfolk? And how high would this one climb to ensure her city was left untouched. “Hey!” he repeated, louder this time.

There was no response. He pulled on the rope, testing the concept up scaling the side before disregarding it once more.

A porthole a good twenty feet to his left had begun to emit a flickering of lamplight. If he had the strength to climb closer, Caleb knew he’d hear conspiratorial voices. The men were in the process of making their decision. He could yell again, but his words would only carry so far. Orly would be smoking in his own quarters and trying to keep his nose clean of crew business. The fact of the matter was that he was stuck.

“Shit,” he breathed.

It was not a death sentence, by any means. He would be remembered eventually, be it that night or the next morning. That didn’t make it any less irritating though.

“Well, just because I have to suffer out here, doesn’t mean you have to,” he said, pulling his chin to his chest so he might gaze into Frumpkin’s eyes. If he had been in his natural shape, he would have given a meow. Caleb was certain. “You curl up somewhere warm, okay?”

Then, with a snap of his fingers, Frumpkin popped away from the natural plain. Securing his foothold, Caleb pressed his forehead against the damp wood and willed sleep to take him.

And sleep must have taken him. For a short while. Because the sound of speaking cut through a fog, dispersed only by a shake of his shoulder. Forcing his eyes open, he saw her wicked grin only inches away.

He did not have the energy to hide his panic as he said, “Hello?”

Sharp teeth and soft cheeks protruded in laughter. “You were pretty gone then, huh?” she said. “I was trying to sneak up on you, but I really shouldn’t have bothered.”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Too busy thinking about me?” she asked, removing one hand from gripping onto the ship and using it to mimic the tossing of her hair. “Usually my hair is down.”

Caleb was captivated more by the evidence that she was strong enough to hold herself up with only one arm. How long had she been trying to wake him, he wondered? And how easy had it been to just reach out and shake him in the end?

He did not ask her these questions. Instead, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was gonna see how you guys all reacted to my beautiful piece.” Still hanging by one hand, she gestured towards the graffiti. “I think I captured your essence the best.”

Caleb snorted. His own portrait was the least flattering – a rabid foam dripping from his mouth, a pair of merfolk patterned underpants his only attire as he stood, rear end in the air, desperately looking through a telescope, the eye in question caricatured by the lens.

“A crazed freak, yeah?” he said.

“I’m so glad you got it.” He laughed again and her smile softened in turn. “Hey,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Have you been calling me ‘crazed freak’ in your head?”

“Not those words exactly.”

Echoes of laughter still stretched his mouth as he said, “Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Fiona,” she replied, holding out her free hand to shake. “Fiona Fancypants.”

“Oh, wow. That is quite a name.”

“Is it? It’s pretty average down in Nicodranas.”

“I’m sure.” He did not believe her, of course, but he was certain she knew that. He was also certain that pressing her would not inspire the truth. In fact, it seemed, with every passing second of silence on his part, frustration grew on hers. “So, Miss Fancypants.”

“Yes?”

“What do I have to offer you in exchange for a glimpse at Nicodranas?”

“You already had a glimpse.”

“For more than a glimpse then.”

“Well….” she trailed off, an all-too innocent look about her, wide eyes and pouting lips. “What are you willing to give me?”

She was luring him into a game he did not have the time to play.

Sighing, he asked, “What do you want?”

“Oh, Caleb,” she said, mimicking his sigh. “I want a lot of things.”

“How about you tell me what you want and I’ll tell you if I can do it.”

She considered it for a moment, narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Then, firmly, she said, “Alright.”

“Ja?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

Now did not feel right. It was too easy. She would have a series of tricky tasks for him to complete first. It should be a struggle.

With a shrug, she said, “Sure. Why not?”

“I thought you wanted some kind of payment?”

“I do! But we can sort that out later.”

“And what if I can’t give you what you want?”

“If you can’t then you can’t. I’ll get something else out of you.”

“That is… rather unsettling.”

She let out another laugh which only served to unsettle him further. It sounded different to her earlier laughter - guttural and deep this time.

* * *

Jester ignored Caleb’s widening eyes and reached forth to untie the rope from his waist.

“Oh, man,” she said, gritting her teeth and pulling harder. “This is impossible. Who tied this?”

“Sailors are pretty good with knots.”

“Well, I suppose they had to be good with something.” She let out a groan of frustration. “You know, this would be easier with two hands.”

Deciding to give up on untying completely, she bore her teeth and began to gnaw away. He stiffened. No doubt from fear. It would have been funny had she not been so annoyed. After a solid few minutes, the rope only slightly frayed. As sharp as her teeth were, her jaw did not quite have the bite to it.

“You know,” he said, sounding more amused than afraid. She kept gnawing. “I could just untie the knot myself.”

Jester pulled back and stared up. He had been frozen, yes, but from barely contained laughter.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” she cried.

He shrugged. “You seemed rather determined.”

“I don’t know if I like you anymore,” she said with a huff.

“I wasn’t under the impression you liked me much to begin with.”

Remembering that it transcended both their cultures, Jester blew a loud and wet raspberry right by Caleb’s ear.

“I am trying to concentrate, you know,” he said, turning a little pink in the cheek as he stared firmly at the knot his fingers were working on.

Not knowing what to do with that, Jester blew another raspberry. With little to no trouble, Caleb had freed himself.

“Okay, what now?” he asked.

“Now we jump.”

Using the force of her tail, Jester pushed herself out and away from the ship so that she might curve spectacularly into a dive. She did not see Caleb’s own leap, but it came a little while after hers and he entered the water bare feet first.

He shook his head like a dog trying to get dry, spinning slowly.

“Caleb?” she called out.

“Fancypants,” he replied, nervously, but clear even in the water. “Is it safe to bring up a few lights?”

“I guess so.” A moment later they were surrounded by startling balls of light. She blinked hard and fast. “Oh, wow.”

“Too much?”

“Maybe a little.” A water-logged wave of his hand later and there was just the one ball left. “Much “better. We’ll just tell the guards you’ve got bad eyes.”

“Not a total lie.”

“No, the biggest challenge will be hiding your legs.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling. “I did think of that.”

“And you brought like… a costume or something?”

“Or something, yeah.” He wore only shirtsleeves and trousers, but from some deep pocket he retrieved a thin metal sheet, rolled up like a scroll. “I’ve been saving this so if you end up tricking me, I’ll be a little upset.”

“Noted.”

He unfurled the metal and scanned it rapidly, eyes moving to and fro like a pair of dartfish. There was an instinct to pester him as he did this, but it seemed important. Maybe sacred. So she held her tongue until his eyes rolled back into his head, the metal scroll dissipated into nothing, and his clothing followed suit.

A much brighter, more blinding light pulsated from his knees until it consumed the entire lower half of his body. When the glow faded, his legs had become a tail. And when he opened his eyes, they were still and natural.

“That was super fucking cool,” she said, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“Thank you. Now, we have to move quickly. It only lasts an hour.”

The guards did their regular dance and Caleb tensed beside her.

“Hi,” Jester called out. Taking in the tails, they lowered the tridents. She turned to Caleb and said, “They’re not really into small talk.”

Caleb did not react either. In fact, his face did not shift at all. Not even after the guards were far behind them.

“So this is the entrance. There’s a lot of pearls because apparently they’re worth a lot so it makes us look super fancy. Which is why so many of us are called Fancypants.” She stared hard, but he remained stoic. “And then this,” she paused for dramatic effect as the heart of the city revealed itself, “Is Nicodranas.”

He sighed beside her. Long and hard.

“Pretty, right?”

He gave a nod which was somehow even more infuriating than no reaction at all.

Beneath them were caves and columns, marble and pearl all over, illuminated by the soft lights of the street lamps. Obscured only by Caleb’s own light. Most establishments were closed, but the intricate signs that hung out, the whittled tables empty of displays, and the crystal war canons still struck awe into the hearts of the unsuspecting.

“What’s wrong?” she pressed. “Is it not what you were expecting?”

He opened his mouth as if to reply, but then closed it quickly. That was all.

“Are you alright?”

Still nothing. Concern overpowering irritation, Jester grabbed Caleb by the wrist and dragged him through the city until they were at her bedroom window.

“This is my room,” she said, releasing him. “We can go in. I just have to make sure Mama’s not asleep in my bed. I don’t think she’d have a problem with me bringing a boy home, but she’d definitely want to sit down and get to know you, and you know, we do not have time for that.”

Laughing from discomfort, she popped her head into the dark room. Nothing was out of place and nobody was in her bed.

“We’re good,” she called over her shoulder, swimming in.

She wondered, for a split second, if she’d have to drag him in after her, but he did follow. Just lethargically.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, sitting him on her bed before taking the space beside him. “Did the spell mess with your head? Did it take your voice? Are you, like, dying?”

“The spell is fine,” he said.

His voice was hoarse, but it was comforting to hear it all the same. “I just… this place is pretty well defended, huh?”

“I guess. Why? Are you planning on starting a war with us?”

“Wars aren’t really my thing,” he said, laughing with the same shaking discomfort Jester had done just a moment beforehand. “But, I can’t say the same for the rest of my people.”

“Same here. I mean, I don’t care about defending our riches to the death, but most other people here do.”

“I think I thought that this would be more scientific. I expected less guards. And I expected to be able to speak with them.”

“Oh, no. They don’t talk to anyone. Not even me! And I’m so charming!”

“That you are.”

“Does it matter, though? Didn’t you just want to see the city?”

“I wanted to be the person who found it.”

“You are. Kind of. I mean, I did help you.”

“Yeah, but I can’t take anyone else here. It’ll end in carnage. From both sides.”

“Oh,” said side, finally understanding. “That’s probably definitely true.”

He gave her a weak smile and she wanted to hold him. Jester reached out slowly for his hands, thinking to hold them in her own. He didn’t flinch, but he did freeze and she followed his example, halting her reach.

“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’ve got some deep waters up in that pretty head, don’t you?”

“Deep waters, yeah,” he breathed. “I don’t know if I have the strength to dive that far right this moment.”

“Okay, Caleb,” she said, unable to help but throw an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for a quick but gentle kiss on the cheek.

With a laugh, a blush, and her arm still around him, he said, “I was going to be something once.”

“Was? What is this ‘was,’ Caleb? You’re sitting in Nicodranas. Like, right now. The first of the landfolk for like, a thousand years.”

“I know.”

“So you did it.”

“I suppose. I won’t make a fortune though.”

“You want a fortune?” she scoffed, releasing him and picking up a handful of trinkets from her bedside jewellery box. “I can give you a fortune.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a fortune! Here-” she let the jewels fall back into the box, shut the lid and handed him the whoe thing. “It’ll be easier to carry this way.”

He started between her and the “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can. I don’t use most of it. It just lies around looking pretty.” Kind of like me, she added in her head.

“For real?”

“For real. Everything’s nice down here and we don’t do much of anything with any of it. But people still get pissy when you paint their stuff with cooler, way more interesting designs.”

“I’m sure.”

He smiled and she wanted to kiss him again. Maybe for longer. Maybe on the lips. Shaking off the desire, she said, “See? Now you’re happy again.”

“Oh, I’m never happy,” he snorted.

“Really, Caleb? Never? Not even for like… ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes sounds wonderful. I think that maybe ten minutes of happiness would be enough for me. But enough about me. We’re running out of time and you haven’t yet told me what it is you want from me”

With a soft groan, she said, “I feel bad.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well, I might feel bad anyway. Just for ten minutes.”

His mouth twitched towards a smile as he said, “Ten minutes at most. Then you make your request.”

“It’s kind of stupid.”

“I’m good with stupid. I do stupid things all the time.”

“I just…” she looked down at her fingers and knotted them together. “I want to see the world. Like, the world on land. Not just under the sea.”

“It’s not half as beautiful up there.”

“I don’t care. I want to see it.”

“You want me to show you?”

Jester unknotted and reknotted her fingers, saying, voice quiet and childlike, “I mean, I’d like that a lot, but…” He did not jump to end her sentence. Only gave her space to find the words herself. “I can’t leave my Mama.”

“Family is important,” he said, brow furrowed. There were no doubt some deep waters to that topic, but she knew better than to pry then and there. “What is it you want then?”

“I have a list of places I want to see. And I wanted you to go to them and then come back here and… tell me about them? Bring me things from them?”

“I could do that.”

“It’s more than I did for you.”

“Not true at all,” he said, nodding to the jewellery box between them. “I’m a rich man. And I’d be honoured to return to Nicodranas with settled expectations. Besides, my crew are desperate to get away from the terrorising of a certain merfolk.” Clapping her hands together, she threw her head back in laughter. “They’ve turned you into quite the horror story. So, I think, if they haven’t decided to leave by morning, I’ll suggest it myself. That way I can get started on your list.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

Jester tried not to blush as she searched for her journal. It was not metal as Caleb’s scroll had been, but thin slabs of slate. Their ink and paints were enchanted, but paper was so difficult to come by beneath the sea that they didn’t bother with it.

“Okay, so, I don’t want you to read it in front of me,” she said, passing it over. “Because I’m embarrassed. But that’s kind of my travel journal. It doesn’t matter if you don’t get them all in a year, but the most important place I want you to go is Hupperdook.”

“Hupperdook? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then. I will go to Hupperdook first.”

“Good.”

“And I will leave now before I wind up with a trident to the head.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I suppose I’ll see you in a year?”

He gave her one last smile, tucking the journal under his arm with the jewellery box. Something in her stomach dropped at the sight of him leaving.

“Wait,” she called. He halted and turned, expectant. She thought about kissing him again. Just a thought. “My name isn’t Fiona Fancypants.”

His smile returned and her heart swelled.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I like ‘Jester’ a lot better.”

Before she could ask ‘how,’ he pointed to a place over her shoulder. There, above her bed, in childish lettering were the words “Jester’s Room.”

She only let herself properly cry when enough time had passed for him to be out of earshot. The water felt colder now that she was alone and Jester went to slam the window shut. As she did so, the door behind her swung open. Almost in tandem.

Jester spun around fast and forced a smile.

“Hi Mama,” she said, pinching her nose so as to stop the snot from giving her sorrow away. “How long have you been there?”

“How long until his ship leaves?”

“I think just a few hours. Sunrise probably.”

“Then, we’ll have to be quick, won’t we?” she said bracingly, reaching for the suitcase beneath Jester’s bed.

“Wait, Mama,” she said.

Marion did not halt in her movements, swimming to the wardrobe and collecting all of her warm wraps. She packed as she spoke, “You’ll need proper clothes if you’re going to have legs.”

“I’m not leaving!”

“You want to go. I know you do.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere away from you.”

“Gather as many jewels are you can carry.”

“Mama! Listen to me! I’m not going anywhere!”

Marion let the blanket she was holding float away from her.

“You don’t deserve to be trapped here. Not like everything else. You’re too precious not to shine for the world to see.” Jester could not supress her sobs any and longer as Marion broke down before her.

“Oh, Mama,” she cried, rushing into her arms.

Marion placed a firm kiss on Jester’s temple. “You go. And you have fun. And you come back to me, okay?”

She nodded fervently against her mother’s chest. “Okay, Mama. I promise.”

“And tell him that if he doesn’t take care of you, I’ll give him a real horror story to tell his friends.”

Jester laughed through her tears and let her mother release her.

The packing was not as fervent as Marion had begun it. They went through each item and deliberated on its use out of water. Jester figured they still had a few hours and she wanted to spend as many of those hours with her mother as possible.

Eventually, though, the night reached its inevitable end.

More laughter and tears were shared before Jester was bursting from the ocean floor, chasing the belly of the ship that had just begun to sail. Faster and faster, suitcase swinging against her hip as she swum, she managed to catch up. It would be a long day, waiting to surprise Caleb, but the look on his face when he saw her would make it all worthwhile

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading everyone! Please kudos and comment if you enjoyed it. I might write a part two at some point, but I'll have to see how overwhelmed I am by assignments in the New Year. Happy Holidays to everyone!


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